Kat – The Making of a Call Girl

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All characters in this story are fictitious and bear no relationship to any person, living or deceased. However, the behaviors of these characters are based on observations of behaviors of normal people in everyday life.

The locations in the story are real but the activities undertaken are entirely fictitious. The attitudes, activities and behaviors described in this story are not necessarily either recommended or condoned by the author.


Kat finds the love of her life with extras


Elsie looked down at the gorgeous baby girl she had just pushed into the world and smiled up at her husband.

“Isn’t she just beautiful?” she said, “Absolutely perfect. Look at these tiny fingers and toes; so delicate and fragile yet already so strong.” She gently freed her hair from the grasp of those fingers.

“Yes, darling, she’s beautiful, just like you,” replied Stan, her husband of six years. “I’m sure she’ll grow up to be just as wonderful, beautiful and intelligent as you are too. Thank you for going through this ordeal to give our baby life, sweetheart. I love you both so very much.”

They kissed gently and sat together as a family, together for the first time, for several minutes.

“Are you still happy with the name Katherine that we chose?” asked Stan. “She certainly looks like she could be a Katherine.”

“Yes, Katherine will be just perfect but I think in real life I’ll shorten it to Kat. Katherine sounds pretentious, good for certificates of achievement, which she will undoubtedly receive, but not for everyday use.”

“That’s fine by me. Kat certainly sounds decisive; short and to the point.”


My early memories are very vague: a comfortable home and loving parents. Of course I had no frame of reference to judge these by at that stage, but in retrospect I know it was like that. My parents set high goals for me to achieve. When I was still quite small, and certainly before I began elementary school, they taught me to count, to recite the alphabet, to read simply books, to try to color inside the lines, to run, hit a ball, kick a football, swim at a basic level and ride a horse, one of my mother’s favorite activities. So I can remember when I started school that my teacher was very pleased with what I could already do; so pleased that she almost completely ignored me to concentrate on others whose parents had been less diligent.

I also remember that I must have been about four years of age when we got a cat at home. She was a soft and furry tabby and her fur felt smooth under my hand as I stroked her. Mom gave me the responsibility of making sure that Missy, as she was named, had water in her bowl and had enough food each day. I would watch Missy eat and drink, patting her as she did, then watch as she’d curl up on her favorite chair in the sun or in front of the fire in winter. It amazed me that while I had to learn and do as I was told, Missy was able to simply be there and have people run after her, providing all her needs. I distinctly remember the time when I thought that I wanted to be a cat and have everything I needed and wanted provided for me. I grinned to myself as I thought that maybe that was why I had been named Kat.

I very clearly remember when my Mom and Dad visited the school and talked with the teacher about my progress. They came home from that meeting very upset. I remember my Mom sitting down with me and asking in detail about what the teacher did with me in class. I truthfully told her that she did nothing really, mainly just let me read whatever I wanted while she taught other children. Mom told me that she was very unhappy with the teacher but not with me; it wasn’t my fault at all and I was doing really well considering the little the teacher did for me.

I liked the teacher; she was kind to me, spoke to me gently and, best of all, left me alone to do what I wanted. I didn’t want her to get in trouble. The next day Mom took me to school and I think she had a talk with my teacher before school started. I know my teacher was different towards me that day, paying attention to what I was doing and giving me more interesting and more difficult books to read. She spent a lot less time with other children in class, the ones who really needed her time. It stayed this way for a few days and I thought about this situation. I had lost a lot of my freedom. I now had to show the teacher I could do things instead of just doing them and knowing I could do them. The teacher gave me tests and marked numbers on sheets of paper after I had completed them. The other children in the class didn’t do as well either because the teacher spent less time working with them. I guess I felt a bit guilty about this because I was taking up so much more of the teacher’s time.

So after a few days of this I spoke to the teacher. I forget exactly what I said, no 28 year old remembers the exact conversation they had with their first teacher all those years ago, but I definitely remember how the conversation went. I told the teacher that I was sorry that my parents had been Escort Eryaman mean to her. (Children of that age have limited vocabulary so whenever someone says something critical to another, it is that person being mean.) I told her that I’d like to help if I could and pointed out that I really liked learning on my own. So if she could just give me pointers of what I should be doing, then I would be very happy to get on and do it myself.

She listened carefully and asked a few questions, wanting to know what I would be telling my parents about what went on at school. I told her that I would be very happy to tell them that the teacher was helping me lots and I was getting really good grades in everything, so long as the teacher would tell them that I was working hard and achieving at a high level. The teacher said she would let me know tomorrow.

The following day she asked me to stay after school and we had another talk. She said she would be happy to do what I suggested so long as I would cause no problems and I would make certain that my parents knew that I was achieving at the level they expected. For her part she would give me excellent reports and would write up my test results to show that I was doing very well. I agreed to her suggestion and thanked her for this. That day was the last day that year she taught me anything, and what she did teach me was the most valuable lesson I have learnt in my life.

For the remainder of the year I worked if and when I wanted on exactly what I wanted at school. I had free access to the library, could ask my teacher questions when I needed (which was not very often) and my parents received glowing reports of my achievements. This seemed to me to be a win-win-win situation; I got what I wanted, my teacher could work with others who needed her, and my parents were reassured that their darling daughter was doing as well or better than they expected.

Word must have spread through the school because each year when I had a new teacher he or she would have a talk with me at the start of the year, confirming that the agreement reached in my first year still stood with them. So school, for me, was a breeze. I never had to do homework, could play and learn as I wanted, when I wanted, how I wanted, if I wanted.

At the end of fifth grade I knew I had a problem. In the new junior high school I would go to the following school year I would have several teachers for different subjects. While I was confident that I could easily keep up with the level taught in the classes, the thought of having to sit, bored, for much of the day waiting for the ‘slow kids’ to catch up was not at all pleasant.

Eventually, of course, the day came when I attended my new school for the first time. I was interviewed with my parents and the teacher doing the interview was impressed by the grades I had been given and the report cards from the last school. My proud parents, of course, were very pleased with these as well. I was allocated a classroom, teacher and class as my home group and the following day attended with this group for the first time. I learnt very little that day; the main learning was that ‘normal’ schooling did not suit me. If I was to achieve at any sort of level I had to get out of the system.

After a few days we were given a test. I made sure that I flunked this by deliberately putting all the wrong answers. I made certain that I got nothing correct. Sure enough, very soon I was asked to a meeting with my home group teacher who expressed great surprise that I scored zero on a test that, according to my report card, I should have aced. The teacher asked if I had an explanation.

I asked him if he could show me a copy of the test question paper, then went through this, verbally giving him the correct answer for every question. At the end of this display of my ability he was at a total loss to explain why I had flunked the original. I explained to him that in the previous school I had been permitted to learn what, where, how and when I wanted and I had obviously achieved as well as or, probably, better than others. Therefore, if he was willing to reassure my parents that I was learning well in all subjects, without me having to do tedious tests to prove this, then I was willing to keep my parents off the school’s and teachers’ backs by telling them how well the school was teaching me. Otherwise, if they insisted that I stay in class and nearly die of boredom each day, I would most certainly ensure that my parents would be on their case all the time.

My group teacher remained silent for several minutes after this, then told me to leave it with him and he’d give me an answer tomorrow morning. The following morning he called me into his office and told me he’d talked with my other teachers and the school principal and that I had a deal. He said that my parents were very well known and well respected in the community and there was no way the school wanted to ruffle their feathers, so provided they did not cause any difficulties for the school, I had free rein to learn in what appeared to be my own unique Eryaman Escort way.

I was, of course, ecstatic that I could now continue my learning myself. I was also very confident now that my manipulative way of dealing with people had once again proven to be effective. My four years at junior high, from sixth to ninth grades, were very pleasant. By the end of my time there I had learnt far more about the prescribed subjects as well as the world in general than other students who had been constrained by a set curriculum and lockstep learning, preventing their wider exploration of knowledge and the Universe, and disciplines such as philosophy, politics, economics and psychology. My parents were also really pleased with my progress especially in my final year when I received certificates of achievement at the highest level in subjects which I had never even attended a class in but which I had topped the school in the final examinations.

The other thing which changed while I was at school was me. I grew up. Just as a caterpillar changes to a beautiful butterfly, I changed from a plain girl into a beautiful young adult woman. Much of the learning I did during those four years was related to diet, health and other aspects of living. I was aware of the lies promulgated as scientific research that was foisted upon people in the guise of knowledge but which was really marketing for unhealthy food and pharmaceutical products. I avoided the nasties and definitely benefited from the health knowledge I learned. I was now a healthy weight, considered beautiful by many who met me, my long blonde waist-length (strictly against school policy) hair was glossy and healthy.

I found that other students were a great source of practice for developing methods of manipulating people. Missy, who had been partly responsible for me developing this manipulative behaviour, was now old in cat terms but I continued to grant her every unspoken wish. I felt extremely grateful to her for the years of freedom I had within the two schools I had attended. I had learnt all I could from her, now it was time to learn from my peers.

Once I finished ninth grade in junior high, the following year I would start in high school and continue there for three years. Once again the problem arose of training a new set of teachers or suffering the constraints of the very limiting system. I followed my tried and true method; flunking the first test I sat by scoring zero, when clearly the expectations of the teacher were that I would score around the 100% mark. He, like his predecessor four years earlier, called me into his office after school. Once again I asked for the paper, told him the correct answers verbally, then explained how I had been learning and that I wanted this to continue.

He looked at me as though I was from another planet, leant back in his chair and laughed out loud, then told me it was time I ceased this nonsense, that I wasn’t in charge here, he was, and that I’d better shape up or my parents would be told in no uncertain terms what their darling daughter had been doing for the past nine years. It was time to be assertive or I would suffer several years of sheer hell. Without a word, I stood and sat on the corner of his desk, looking down at him as he gazed open-mouthed in surprise at my audacity.

“I assume you like your job and wish to stay as a teacher here. I also assume that you like relative peace and do not want to be hassled by parents of students all the time. So I’m willing to cut you a deal. I will obtain grades in the top 10% of the class on every test and exam I am given and all my teachers will mark me present in class and ignore the fact that I don’t attend. The alternative is that I deliberately flunk every test and exam and you will have my parents on your back continually. So far I have gained awards, have topped my year and have learnt far more about far more relevant subjects than have ever been taught in school. My parents expect there to be no change in this and clearly, having achieved this in the past, they will expect it in the future. So it will be completely the fault of the school, and you in particular, not of me, if I flunk my grades because I’ve already proven myself to be a hard-working, competent achiever. So you choose. Turn a blind eye, have me excel and ignore my absence from class, or insist I attend each boring class, while I flunk every exam I sit and you will have my parents on your back continually. Which will it be?”

I stopped talking and looked at him, saw the apprehension on his face, the knowledge that he was certain that what I had said was very likely exactly what I would do; the fear of the possibility of losing the high reputation of the school and his own and other teachers’ reputations as being excellent teachers; the possibility that if he insisted on my attendance in class it could possibly cost him and others their jobs here. Furthermore, he knew of my parents by reputation and knew that they would support me to the hilt and expect the school to provide the best possible education for their darling daughter. I continued Eryaman Escort Bayan after a few seconds of silence.

“So, are you willing to reconsider your position on the means by which I learn in this school or will you allow your decision to stand and accept the possible consequences?”

Needless to say he made the decision which was best for both of us. Word spread quickly around the school and all teachers marked me present on their registers regardless of where I was. I did attend many classes and I did sit all the examinations, always topping the class and usually scoring percentages in the high nineties. I figured that so long as I kept scoring highly, made no trouble for teachers and kept presenting wonderful grades to my parents I had little to be concerned about.

Those three years drifted quietly and pleasantly by. Once again I topped the school in my twelfth grade year, once again my parents were extremely proud and had no idea of the methods I used to achieve my goals. By this time Dad was in a top administrative position and Mom was very happy entertaining the social elite. They had little time for me, and I for them, and so long as my results were satisfactory, they were happy. I made sure I kept them far more than happy.

My private life was also flourishing. At social events attended or hosted by my parents, I was able to meet many of the sons and daughters of the social elite with whom my parents associated. I found it an interesting diversion to practise my manipulative skills on these peers and many of them ‘bought’ my friendship with presents of jewellery and other baubles. They appeared to overlook the fact that I never reciprocated; apparently being able to call me a friend was sufficient reward in itself. Looking back on it, I realize that in those days I must have been a prize bitch.

After graduation at the top of my high school, I could select almost any university I chose for further study. Instead of choosing any of the top universities, I chose the local University of Massachusetts Boston due to the fact that there were many advantages in living at home including having everything done for you and the opportunity to socialize with the offspring of the social elite with whom my parents mixed freely. Obviously, with my school record, UMass Boston was very pleased to offer me a place as an undergraduate.

I enrolled in a BA degree in sociology and psychology, considering this to be the best subject choice to advance me in my chosen ‘career’ in the manipulation of people to my own desires. A week before I began university I had my 18th birthday, largely uncelebrated as my parents were very busy with their own lives at that stage. I took to university life like a duck to water. It was, after all, the way I had been learning all my life. I selected the interesting lectures, obtaining notes from others that I chose not to attend from classmates. I was soon considered to be the most desirable date by all the ‘in’ guys, although my reputation as a tease also soon spread. This, however, didn’t seem to deter the poor persistent hopefuls, each of whom seemed to think that they could achieve what others could not. They were wrong. Attaining the age of 18 had made no difference to my private social life and I was determined to ‘sell’ my virginity only to the guy who really swept me off my feet and was also able to offer something substantial in return. However, I had a great deal of fun, accumulated many gifts, including a car, and never needed to buy or do a great deal for myself.

I found university very easy and with very little effort I achieved top marks in each course and was soon known as the person to beat, if that was possible. I was slightly disappointed that I didn’t need to bribe or blackmail any of the staff, but I still honed these types of skills on my never-ending supply of dates.

I graduated with the degree Psychology/Sociology, BA three days after my 21st birthday. My parents, of course, put on a big party, inviting all their friends as well as the children of their friends. I didn’t need a date; I had the choice of nearly a hundred eligible young men to choose from to take my cherry, if I so chose, as the rumor had been spread by some of my female friends that tonight was the night. The subdued level of excitement at that possibility, if someone played his cards right, was almost tangible to the young people there, although the older group was completely unaware of this. There were, of course, almost an equal number of young women as young men present, many of whom I was firm friends with and many of whom also probably had their virginity intact, at least, that’s what they inferred in polite conversation.

The night of the party was warm and pleasant, the party taking place on my parents’ property on which a large marquee had been set up for the drinks and food. It was a buffet meal followed by dancing, then late supper. Two dance bands were engaged to supply the music, one for the oldies playing tunes with which they were familiar and to which they were happy to dance, and the other was a currently popular band with young people to play their type of dance music. Fortunately there was plenty of space on the estate to find places away from the throng of people and the beat of too loud music. The trees on the estate also provided a degree of intimacy for those who desired this.

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